Half-assed, half-week recap:
So Sunday was my 13th wedding anniversary, which was celebrated with tears and painful reminders of how I completely ruined my ex's life. Hooray!
Monday I had late-lunch/dinner with the Rabbi; Johnny Something's Shrimp Shack. Mild was the call for the heat index, since this was my first excursion into cajun food. After driving to the park and discussing my latest phobia, ticks with Lyme disease, it was off to the ghost zoo and a trip down Walhalla on the way back to the car.
Today (Tuesday), Chef and I got some ghetto fish for lunch, and I not only paid for it then in American dollars, but am now paying for it in one hell of a gastrointestinal excursion. It feels as though I've been ass-raped by a dragon, although that may be a gentler experience than this. In short, stay away from fish on 5th Ave.
After finally finishing my work day, I decided to go get my hair cut. Oops! I'm sorry, personal life...please hold. Off to Mount Vernon for a delivery, which turned out to be pretty cool because of the drive. Very scenic, and the fresh air was nice to clear my head after a most fucked up ending to the weekend. Decided to destroy that refreshing feeling with a trip to Cracker Barrel, which was a painful reminder of the Lawyer; that was the last place we saw each other. So after saying I need a table for one, the hostess sat me down with two menus, with one at the empty space across from me. I wanted to punch that c*nt in the f*cking neck. The. End.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Religious Excrement!
For those of you not hip to the game, that's 'holy shit' in the most polite way I could think to put it. My exclamation comes as a result of this daily blog becoming a footnote rather quickly, exactly four days into it. But I'm back, kiddies. Put away the sawed-off and wash the glue from your body, no need to bedazzle yourselves to get my attention. I'm here again and posting without any promise of returning, so deal with it.
Want to know what the hell happened? I'll tell you! Turns out my life is as uninteresting as a fat man doing the tango, so writing every day would have been a chore at best and an exercise in stamina at worst. But I come to you today as a result of purging some demons in my other blog, and to introduce you to my new blogging friend, known for the purposes of this blog as Chef. No, he does NOT resemble the South Park character, but he does have a culinary degree.
Anyway, Chef has decided he wants to blog now; he wants to share some short stories with the world anonymously, and for that I give him much props. However, Chef has about as much computer literacy as my father who is 64 years old and retarded. Retired. Yeah, one of those. So the conversation more or less went like this:
(RING RING)
Me: Hello?
Chef: Hey brotha, how do you (insert computer issue here)?
Me: Just (insert relatively simple answer here).
Chef: Okay, thanks brotha.
Me: Yep, no problem.
Repeat this exact conversation 47 times, and that has been the last hour or so of my life. I think he may have a blog started by now, but it's tough to say. This is the same guy who a few months ago strolled up to me with his chest puffed out exclaiming 'Oh yeah, brotha! I'm bloggin'!' to only find out he was merely posting comments about his favorite NFL team in their fan forum. Yeah, you're blogging, buddy. I could have let him continue his fantasy, but he would have found out eventually and been crushed that I didn't tell him. But as Chef says with everything, 'I don't know (insert any task he's failed at here), I know cooking'.
And he's right, that motherfucker can chef the shit outta some thin air.
Welcome to the blogosphere, Chef.
Want to know what the hell happened? I'll tell you! Turns out my life is as uninteresting as a fat man doing the tango, so writing every day would have been a chore at best and an exercise in stamina at worst. But I come to you today as a result of purging some demons in my other blog, and to introduce you to my new blogging friend, known for the purposes of this blog as Chef. No, he does NOT resemble the South Park character, but he does have a culinary degree.
Anyway, Chef has decided he wants to blog now; he wants to share some short stories with the world anonymously, and for that I give him much props. However, Chef has about as much computer literacy as my father who is 64 years old and retarded. Retired. Yeah, one of those. So the conversation more or less went like this:
(RING RING)
Me: Hello?
Chef: Hey brotha, how do you (insert computer issue here)?
Me: Just (insert relatively simple answer here).
Chef: Okay, thanks brotha.
Me: Yep, no problem.
Repeat this exact conversation 47 times, and that has been the last hour or so of my life. I think he may have a blog started by now, but it's tough to say. This is the same guy who a few months ago strolled up to me with his chest puffed out exclaiming 'Oh yeah, brotha! I'm bloggin'!' to only find out he was merely posting comments about his favorite NFL team in their fan forum. Yeah, you're blogging, buddy. I could have let him continue his fantasy, but he would have found out eventually and been crushed that I didn't tell him. But as Chef says with everything, 'I don't know (insert any task he's failed at here), I know cooking'.
And he's right, that motherfucker can chef the shit outta some thin air.
Welcome to the blogosphere, Chef.
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